Page 32 of Stay Wild Darlin’

The man I lived with.

Maybe I have a crush on him.

Shit.

This was temporary.

I needed better boundaries. That much was obvious.

15

Poppy

Beau ended up having to come rescue us and drive us home because, yeah . . . we’d had way too many beers, and I was in absolutely no condition to drive. I could’ve sworn the porch light was doubling, or doing a little dance. Hard to tell.

“Night, y’all,” I called, giving a lazy wave as the car backed out of the driveway. I swayed slightly, then dug into my purse, squinting at the ring of identical-looking keys.

“Why do they all look the same?” I muttered, holding them up like they were personally mocking me. I groaned, trying to focus. “Okay, door, be cool.”

The little ranch house sat quietly in the middle of a whole lot of open land stretching out in every direction.

It was peaceful, yet a little too dark when you were tipsy and trying to get your shit together.

I squinted at the keys in my hand again, standing outside my separate entrance, spinning the key ring like it might suddenly shout I’m the one at me.

“Fuck,” I muttered, jabbing one randomly at the knob.

Wrong one.

I took a step forward to try another, and my boot heel caught a stupid rock I definitely didn’t see. My ankle twisted, and the next thing I knew, I was face down in the dirt, chin smacking the ground, and the cool night air hitting my back.

“Ow,” I groaned, too stunned to move, too drunk to care.

My dress had ridden up with the fall, my legs sprawled behind me because I’d lost a fight with gravity and the Texas terrain. I blinked up at the sky and let out a breathless laugh.

“Perfect,” I muttered to no one. “Truly killin’ it tonight.”

“You need some help, darlin’?”

The slow, Southern drawl behind me made my eyes flutter shut. Great. Either I was hallucinating from the fall, or God had finally called me home.

“Is this heaven?” I mumbled into the dirt. “Because if it is . . . that better be Jesus behind me.”

Two strong arms slid under mine, lifting me off the ground with way more ease than I cared to admit. My dress fell back into place, thank God, and when I finally turned around, I came face to chest with a familiar broad frame and a face that was unfairly attractive for this hour of night.

“Oh no,” I muttered, squinting up at him. “Not Jesus. Just a hot blonde cowboy.”

Dalton raised an eyebrow, clearly fighting a smirk. “You hit your head, or is this the beer talkin’?”

“Little bit of both.” I grinned, wobbling slightly as I leaned into him. “You always this heroic, or only when girls face-plant in your yard?”

“A little bit of both,” he said, taking the key ring from my hand.

He opened the back door and held it wide like a gentleman—which, for some reason, made me want to laugh and melt all at once. His hand caught mine, and something in me went taut.

My gaze snapped up to his, those bright green eyes narrowed and focused, not on my face but my arm.

“You’re bleeding.”